Destiny and Fate
by KattieWatsonHolmes
Summary: The five times Sherlock Holmes met Lexi MacKenna and the one time it mattered. One shot companion to my OC story.
1. From Dublin to London

From Dublin to London

Sherlock Holmes was tired and spent after solving a case that had taken him all the way to Dublin. All he wanted now was to get on the plane and sit for the flight back to London in peace. That seemed to not be in the cards for him as he got onto the plane and stowed his carry on in the overhead compartment. Children were already screaming as parents tried to wrangle their little monstrosities. He moved to take the window seat, as far away from the isle as possible, only to discover that someone was already sitting there. Someone who was currently bent into the pages of a battered book. All Sherlock could see was a mass of red hair. He huffed in irritation as he took the aisle seat. The person sitting beside him flicked the page over and it drew Sherlock's attention back to the redhead who had stolen his seat. Agatha Christie novel.

"You know it was the husband," Sherlock commented and the redhead snorted behind the book.

"Aye, tis obvious really," The woman said in a very thick Irish accent before she lowered the book slightly. All Sherlock could see were a pair of very expressive green eyes. "I figured it out by the third chapter, but I figured I would keep on reading anyway. "

"Why bother reading something if you know the ending already?" Sherlock asked the woman perplexed. The woman lowered the book to her lap and looked over at Sherlock. He could now see what she looked like as she wasn't hidden by the book. She had shoulder length red hair, green eyes, and pale skin. Her cheeks were slightly rosy and her nose was angular as was her jawline. Her bottom lip was slightly larger than her top lop, making her look like she was slightly pouting. She was by all standards pretty and above average beauty if Sherlock was being generous.

"My friend Mary wanted me to read it. I'm indulging her, though it is a bit boring. How could one not tell it was the husband right away?" The girl asked him shaking her head in exasperation.

"Most people are idiots," Sherlock commented before biting his lip and looking away. This was the time in most conversations that people normally stopped talking to him. He was therefore surprised when he heard the bubble of laughter coming beside him. He looked over at the redhead who was giggling.

"Aye, they are, aren't they? I swear there is such thing as common sense, but no one ever uses it these days," The redhead said her eyes sparkling with mirth. "You would think people could control their children too," The girl continued making a hand gesture to gesture around the cabin of the plane. Sherlock nodded and the girl seemed to regard them.

"Please fasten your seat belts," A woman suddenly said over the com system. The detective and his companion did so before Sherlock turned back to her. He wasn't sure why he was attempting to converse with her, but she was at least not dull and seemed mildly intelligent. Certainly she was a better choice than the lawyer sitting across the aisle who was clearly having an affair with his secretary sitting beside him if them playing footsie was any indication.

"What brings you to London?" Sherlock asked the girl as she stowed away her book beside her and turned more toward him in her seat as the plane started down the runway.

"I'm moving there actually. I'm guessing you were in Ireland for work," The girl said and Sherlock nodded. Sherlock placed her age somewhere around twenty. She was young so Sherlock was surprised that she was making the move by herself.

"Yes, I was," Sherlock answered her as the plane took off. He would have expected some form of flight anxiety from the girl. It didn't look like she traveled much. In fact, Sherlock placed her at just having left University and her move to London was probably a way of rebelling against her parents. What other reasons did someone move from Dublin to London at her age?

For the remainder of the one hour flight Sherlock and the girl made small talk about various things. Sherlock offered her some suggestions of where she could look for flats and some places that she might get a decent meal in the city. When the plane landed at Heathrow, the detective and his companion both reluctantly got up. Sherlock helped her get her carry-on bag down before getting his own and they exited the plane together. They stood there chatting as they collected their luggage and they continued their discussion until they got out of the airport and entered the long line of people waiting for a cab. Sherlock helped her into one and sent her off, telling the cabbie that he better take care of her as she slid into the back of the cab before the girl from the plane waved him off. Sherlock got into his own cab and took off for Scotland Yard to finish his case before he went back to his flat to crash. The girl from the plane was never thought about again and Sherlock deleted the entire encounter, even though she had been the first person to not be turned off by his rude comments.


	2. Run-ins With A Cab

Run-ins With A Cab

Lexi MacKenna was not happy. She barely had any sleep and was running on fumes. To make matters worse, the murderer she was after was now leading her on a chase throughout London. It was a good thing she had her running shoes on. Things had been going well for her lately. She had been working with the Yard for a year now consulting on cases and Lestrade was calling her in on more cases than before now that he had seen more of how she worked. She took off and leapt over the bins that the murderer had run around before bolting up the locked fence between the buildings. He was a spry little bastard she would give him that. Well this was one way to lose weight. Lexi took off after him as he ran across the road only to hear a loud horn before she was knocked to the ground. She groaned as her head started throbbing and she heard a ringing in her ears. She squeezed her eyes closed as she assessed the extent of the damage. Possibly cracked rib, maybe a concussion, and a sprained ankle, not broken. She blinked her eyes open as she heard muffled sounds of someone talking to her only to be met with the face of a cabbie.

"Oh God, I'm sorry I didn't see you… you ran right out into the road," The cabbie said as I slowly sat up and hissed in pain as the movement jarred my ribs. "I'll call you an ambulance," The cabbie said, but I waved him off as I pushed through the pain and picked myself up off the road. I had a gash on my leg which was bleeding as well as some other cuts along my arms. My mid length hair was falling out of its long braid as well.

"I'm fine," I told the cabbie who looked at me in shock as I looked back to where my murderer had fled. "Ah bloody hell, he got away," I said in exasperation, my voice going into a thick Cockney accent which I had recently picked up while undercover. I made to go after him, hopeful that I could catch up with him, but as soon as I tried to walk I stumbled as my ankle twinged painfully and I cried out in pain. I was righted by someone tall wearing a dark coat. I looked up to be met with blue – grey eyes. "Thanks," I told him as he stepped back.

"You are not fine, your ankle is most likely sprained and I would wager you cracked a rib or two," The man said as he helped me take a seat on the bonnet of the car as the cabbie called for an ambulance. "May I?" The stranger asked me as he gestured to my boot clad foot.

"Have at it," I told him and he bent down and took my boot off, I hissed in pain again as he rotated my ankle.

"As I thought, sprained," He said as he took his scarf off, crème coloured and started wrapping it tightly around my ankle. "That should help keep down some of the swelling for now," He told me as he got back up. "Now, what were you doing running across the lane of travel?" He asked me in bemusement.

"Thought I would go for a nice nighttime run around the city," I remarked as I crossed my arms over my chest and sighed heavily. This was rather tedious. It also meant I would have to deal with bloody Mycroft reprimanding me at the hospital for reckless behaviour. This was just bloody perfect. I was also going to get an earful from Lestrade. The man smirked as the sound of sirens reached my ears. I groaned and shook my head. Sirens, really? I wasn't that injured. "Traitor," I told the man as the ambulance pulled up. He raised an eyebrow at me as the EMTs got out and forced me over to the ambulance and loaded me onto a stretcher. I attempted to take the scarf off of my foot but the man waved me off.

"Keep it. You might need it for another night time stroll," He told me with the hint of a smirk in his voice. I rolled my eyes as the EMTs closed the doors of the ambulance. As if on cue my phone went off with the ring tone that signaled that the British Government had just been notified of my little accident. Oh bloody perfect.

It took the British Government and the Detective Inspector to get Lexi MacKenna to sit in her flat and rest while they caught the murderer. The crème scarf hung up behind her door with her red coat for the next few months. She wore it every case after that, not exactly forgetting the man who had helped her, but slowly she forgot what he looked like, all except for blue-grey eyes. She would later lose that scarf on her last case for Scotland Yard.


	3. I Need A Case

I Need a Case

Sherlock Holmes was clean, relatively. He had been battling with his addiction for the last two years and he was almost completely clean no matter what his brother tried to say. That was why he was currently stalking up to see Lestrade to convince him to let him in on the current case. It was a serial killer case, those were always his favorites, and there had currently been four victims already. The police were far out of their depths as always which was perfect for Sherlock because that meant that Lestrade would jump at the chance to get his help. He had been waiting for a case like this for a while. The criminal classes had been so dull of late, but this was the first high profile case that had gone unsolved so far. This was his chance to get back into the work.

As soon as he got to the division he found Lestrade and followed after him, arguing with him about how he should be put on the case. "Look, Sherlock, I don't need your help. I've already got someone working on this case for me," Lestrade told him, finally rounding on him in irritation.

"Oh, you meant Anderson and Donovan," Sherlock sneered. "Yes, I can see you have all the help you need."

"No, not Anderson and Donovan, but that is none of your business. I've got my best person on the case right now," Lestrade told Sherlock as a door opened and someone poked their head out. Sherlock looked over at the girl he had never seen before. Her hair was a bright shade of red and it was drawn up in a tight bun. She was wearing black glasses, a pencil skirt, and a white blouse with a few bracelets around her wrist. She walked out of the office beside Lestrade's and walked up to the Detective Inspector.

"Greg, I think I might have found something," She told Lestrade in a distinctive Welsh accent. This was Lestrade's best? A girl that looked no more than twenty four who was clearly new to the division. The only thing Sherlock could say about her was that at least she wore practical footwear unlike Donovan who wore heels. This girl was smart enough to know that flats were more suitable for catching criminals.

"Be with you in a moment," Lestrade told the girl and she nodded before turning around with papers in hand and going back to her office, shutting the door behind her. "As I said, I've got my best on the case," Lestrade said with a slight smirk on his face as he saw Sherlock's expression.

"You mean you have the person you think you can get lucky with on the case," Sherlock snapped, noticing that the girl had called him Greg instead of Lestrade. She worked on the force but was informal with Lestrade which meant that they were closer than just boss and co-worker. Lovers was more likely and as Lestrade was going through a divorce it was a simple deduction. Lestrade shook his head and grimaced at that.

"Go home Sherlock," Lestrade told Sherlock as all of a sudden the girl came bounding out of her office again, this time with a grey coat thrown over her outfit and a hunter green scarf around her neck. "Where are you off to?" Lestrade called after her as she rushed past the D.I. and the consulting detective.

"Where else do I go when duty calls?" She called back to him in unmasked annoyance, holding up her phone and shaking it around. "Ugh, I'm going to kill him one of these days," The girl grumbled as the D.I laughed.

"Try not to, I'd hate to have to bring you in," Lestrade told her as Sherlock viewed the casualness between the two. Yes, they were definitely lovers.

"I'll remember that. I left the papers on my desk and wrote out everything. Try to not make the arrest without me," The girl called over her shoulder before running off through the doors of the division and out of sight. Sherlock glared at Lestrade before he left as well, silently cursing the redhead who had to solve the case and have Lestrade under her thumb. The woman population were all traitors, using their curves and sweet smiles to get whatever they wanted. Well, they would get nothing out of him.


	4. Girl Talk

Girl Talk

Molly Hooper escorted Sherlock back through to the lab rooms where a light was on in the corner, a girl wearing a crème coloured hat bent over a microscope in the far corner of the room. Sherlock immediately deduced that she was another pathologist given that she was wearing a lab coat and her hands were delicate enough for that type of work. Molly also seemed to not be surprised to see her sitting there. Sherlock spied that she was wearing a shirt with a chemistry joke on it. She looked up from the microscope and changed the slides. All Sherlock could see in the darkness, slightly illuminated by the lamp was that she had red hair hidden beneath her hat.

"How's it coming along?" Molly asked the girl as she bent over the microscope again.

"Lovely. Oh I checked over the autopsy reports for you like you requested. It was a heart attack that killed Mr. Helmway," The girl told Molly in a distinctive Scottish accent as Molly brought her over the cup of coffee she had been carrying. "Thanks Molls," The girl said as she accepted the cup and took a sip. Sherlock smirked as he saw her grimace at the taste and put the mug down beside her.

"We'll leave you at it then," Molly told the girl before looking back at Sherlock. "The body is just through here," Molly told Sherlock as she led him through the lab to the autopsy room. Sherlock spent the next three hours examining the body that Molly had laid out for him on his current case. He walked back out into the lab when he was finished and found that the girl was still there, this time mixing chemicals together and putting them onto a slide before she bent over the microscope again.

"Where's Molly?" Sherlock asked the girl only to be ignored as she fiddled with the dial on the side of the microscope.

"Hmm?" She asked him after a second, not looking up from her work.

"Molly. Where is she?" Sherlock asked her through clenched teeth, not liking to repeat himself.

"Freezer room," The girl answered him, and Sherlock stalked off to find Molly. He founded her and started going over everything he had found with her until they were interrupted, much to Molly's relief, by the girl in the hat who popped her head into the freezer room. "I'll see you tomorrow Molly, have a great night," The girl told Molly who smiled at the girl.

"You too, are we still on for tomorrow night?" Molly asked the girl who grinned widely and nodded.

"Chick flick marathon and cookie dough ice cream? Wouldn't miss it for the world," The girl told her before giving her a two fingered salute and leaving. Sherlock sighed heavily in exasperation. Women! They were altogether silly and just got into the way of his work.


	5. Brother Mine

Brother Mine

Mycroft Holmes was having a bit of a heart attack. He had just been informed that his brother had arrived and he currently had Lexi MacKenna in his office as they were about to go out for their weekly lunch meeting. It was as if his worst nightmare was coming true. He had so far kept them from meeting one another. They had come close to meeting on a few occasions already, but here and now they had the most chance of meeting. Mycroft texted Anthea under his desk to keep Sherlock busy as he led Lexi to the door to get her in the car before he dealt with whatever his brother needed. It would have worked if not for Sherlock waiting right outside his office door.

"Give me a moment and then I'll be with you," Mycroft told Lexi who thankfully shrugged and walked off as Anthea intercepted her for him and made sure she headed off to the car. Mycroft turned to his brother who had a raised eyebrow as he watched the girl leave before he turned back to his brother and pushed his way past him into his office. "Bother mine, to what do I owe this delightful meeting?" Mycroft asked his brother, sighing in relief as he walked back into his office and closed his door. His eyes then landed on a small purse sitting on his desk which his brother had noticed. Mycroft paled slightly as he walked over and moved it, taking it with him and putting it behind his desk as he sat down.

"Mycroft, stop poking your nose into my business," Sherlock snapped to his brother rigidly.

"I'm sure I have no idea at all what you are talking about," Mycroft told him calmly with a tight smile on his face.

"Keep your cameras out of my flat," Sherlock told him coldly before throwing the cameras down on his brother's desk.

"Your behaviour of late has been a bit of a worry brother mine, I was simply looking out for my brother," Mycroft told him, his smile widening. Sherlock flipped off his brother childishly and Mycroft shook his head. "Now, now Sherlock, let's be civil," Mycroft scolded his brother. "I would hate to have to tell Mummy about your behaviour."

"Oh don't bring her into this," Sherlock snapped. "Though at the same time, why don't you tell her about the girl you are apparently shagging."

"I have no idea what you are talking about," Mycroft told his brother, mentally laughing at his brother's farfetched deductions. He was slipping if he couldn't see that there was nothing between Lexi and him.

"Hmm, so you are shagging the journalist who was just in your office?" Sherlock asked his brother. Mycroft knew he was only trying to draw the conversation away from him and onto something her thought would embarrass him.

"How do you know she is a journalist?" Mycroft asked his brother in amusement, wanting to hear exactly what his brother had deduced about Lexi.

"She had ink on her hands. There also was a callous on her middle finger when she had done heavy writing thus developing a callous from where the pen rubbed against her finger. She's right handed. Her hands are also dainty, long fingers, which means she also does a lot of typing. A journalist was obvious. Also she came to see you, most likely one of your correspondents," Sherlock deduced and Mycroft nodded, letting him think he was right.

"As much as I've enjoyed this brother mine, I do have plans to attend to. The British Government does not run itself after all. I'll let Mummy know that you send you love," Mycroft said as he stood, taking Lexi's purse with him.

"Give my regards to the Queen," Sherlock quipped sarcastically as he crossed over to the door and left leaving Mycroft alone again. The eldest Holmes breathed a sigh of relief. The crises had been adverted and Sherlock had been as far from the truth as possible. Mycroft smirked to himself. England was safe, Sherlock Holmes and Alexandria MacKenna did not meet.


	6. Flatmates

Flatmates

Sherlock Holmes worked at his microscope as a knock came at the lab door before it opened. Two men walked inside, the sound of lighter footsteps entering the room behind them. Sherlock continued on with his work, feeling eyes on him and he looked across briefly at the people who had entered. Mike Stamford along with a blond man, obviously a soldier recently invalided home from either Afghanistan or Iraq. The eyes he had felt on him belonged to a red haired woman who studying him with intelligent green eyes. She stood at about 5'8 and had a light dusting of freckles over her face. Sherlock looked away again, back to his work, but he could still feel her studying him.

The army man limped further into the room, looking around at all the equipment. "Well, bit different from my day," He remarked as he looked around the room.

"You've no idea!" Mike told him chuckling. The girl snorted at Mike's response as she walked further into the room. So, she was acquainted with Mike, but the way she stood said she was newly acquainted with the army man who was quite obviously and army doctor.

"Mike, can I borrow your phone? There's no signal on mine," Sherlock asked Mike without even glancing up from his work. His deep baritone cutting through the lab. He could feel those eyes on him again as he finally spoke.

"And what's wrong with the landline?" Mike asked him.

"I prefer to text," Sherlock told him boredly.

"Sorry. It's in my coat," Mike told him not sounding sorry at all. The girl walked over to the army doctor's side and glanced around the room looking briefly. She looked like she was comfortable in this surrounding so she had some skills, maybe another doctor.

"Er, here. Use mine," Someone said and Sherlock looked up in surprise to see the army doctor offering out his mobile to him.

"Oh. Thank you," Sherlock said genuinely surprised by the offer. He glanced briefly at Mike before standing up and walking towards the army doctor and the girl. She regarded him with a quirked eyebrows as she cocked her head to the side and studied him further.

"An old friend of mine, John Watson and a good friend of mine Alexandria MacKenna," Mike introduced the two of them as Sherlock took the phone from "John". He turned partially away from them and flipped open the keypad before starting to type on it. He glanced at the girl for a brief second their eyes meeting for the barest of seconds.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" Sherlock asked John and he caught the girl smiling brightly as John frowned beside her. She looked at Mike at the same time as John did and he just smiled at the two of them knowingly. John looked back at the Sherlock as he continued to type.

"Sorry?" John asked him as the girl shared a look with Mike. Sherlock realized that she hadn't spoken a word since entering the room which was maddening as he couldn't deduce her. She seemed like a doctor given her ease and apparent knowledge as she looked over at his experiment, but that wasn't right, her hands didn't look like a doctor's. She had callouses on her hands, dainty, long fingers, and her hair was far too long, falling to her waist.

"Which was it …Afghanistan or Iraq?" Sherlock asked again as he briefly raised his eyes to study John before looking back to the phone. John hesitated and looked at Mike confused. Mike only smiled at him smugly as the girl narrowed her eyes and Sherlock who felt like he was the one under the microscope. He realized then what that look was. He had only seen it in Mycroft's eyes before when he was deducing.

"Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you know...?" John asked him before the door opened cutting him off. Sherlock looked up from the phone as Molly walked into the room carrying a mug of coffee. A look of recognition past over the woman's face as she looked up at who had entered the room.

"Ah, Molly, coffee. Thank you," Sherlock said as he shut down John's phone and handed it back to him as Molly brought the mug over to him. He looked closely at her as he took the mug. "What happened to the lipstick?" He asked her forwardly and the girl raised one eyebrow at his question.

"It wasn't working for me," Molly told him smiling awkwardly at him.

"Really? I thought it was a big improvement. Your mouth's too small now," Sherlock told her as he turned and walked back to his station.

"... Okay," Molly said quietly as she turned and headed back towards the door.

"Don't listen to him Molls. You are looking fabulous to today. I love what you did with you hair," The girl complimented her. He hadn't noticed anything different with her hair, in fact it looked the same as always. Sherlock caught the slight disapproval in her eyes. Ah, she disapproved of the comment he made. The use of the nickname, Molls, meant that she was probably friends with the girl. Dull.

"Thanks Alex. It's nice to see you, it's been a while since you've come in," Molly said smiling brightly at the girl. Alex? She didn't go by Alexandria normally or this was another nickname between girls. Sherlock would never understand the fair sex and all the ins and outs about what women did.

"Been a bit busy. I'll come by soon to see you and we can catch up," She told Molly who happily agreed to the plans before making her way back towards the door with a wave over her shoulder at her.

"How do you feel about the violin?" Sherlock asked his voice cutting through the silence. John looked at Molly, but she was already walking out of the door. He glanced briefly at Mike who was still smiling smugly at the two of his companions before the both of them came to the conclusion that Sherlock was talking to the two of them.

"I'm sorry, what?" John asked him at the same time as the girl snorted. It was a very unladylike gesture, but it summed up exactly what she was thinking.

Sherlock began typing away on his laptop as he started talking again. "I play the violin when I'm thinking. Sometimes I don't talk for days on end." He said as he looked at the two of us. "Would that bother either of you? Potential flat mates should know the worst about each other," He finished as he threw a hideously false smile at them. The girl rolled her eyes at him.

John looked at him blankly before looking back at Mike. "Oh, you ... you told him about us?" John asked Mike sounding confused. The girl walked around John and down the lab table glancing over at the experiment that Sherlock had been conducting. Sherlock raised an eyebrow at her as she looked over his work, but she paid him no mind. In fact, she completely ignored him and went about with what she was doing.

"Not a word," Mike answered him smugly and the girl shared a look with Mike for a brief second as she remained silent and let John do all of the talking. The most he had heard out of her was her talking to Molly but she had not actively participated in any other conversation.

"Then who said anything about flat mates?" John asked Sherlock as he turned back to him sounding huffy. That would be the military side coming out. The girls smiled apparently amused by John's reaction.

Sherlock got up and picked up his great coat before pulling it on. "I did. Told Mike this morning that I must be a difficult man to find a flat mate for. Now here he is just after lunch with an old friend, clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan and a friend he holds in a high regard. Wasn't that difficult a leap."

"How did you know about Afghanistan?" John asked him as he looked at the girl for an answer. She flashed him a smile as Sherlock ignored the question and wrapped his navy scarf around his neck. Odd that, why would he look to her for an answer? Sherlock picked up his mobile and checked it briefly before he looked up catching the girl's eye. He caught her slightly raised eyebrow as she looked at him and then at his phone. Sherlock couldn't help the slight smirk that gave his little ruse away.

"Got my eye on a nice little place in central London. Together the three of us ought to be able to afford it," Sherlock said as he walked towards John. The girl, the only way Sherlock could think of her as he couldn't read her, walked back over to Mike and stopped at the end of the lab table closer to John as she stood with my fingers laced behind my back. "We'll meet there tomorrow evening; seven o'clock. Sorry…gotta dash. I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary," Sherlock continued as he put his phone into the inside pocket of his coat before walking past John and heading for the door. His eyes swept over the girl again as he walked past her. She was not a doctor but had some knowledge of chemistry or medicine. The ink spot on her hand suggested that she was a journalist, no a writer. He could now observe that the callouses were not from the writing, but because she played a stringed instrument. Maybe a guitar as her fingernail polish was slightly chipped.

"Is that it?" John asked him sounding flabbergasted. Sherlock turned back from the door and strolled closer to the two of them again.

"Is that what?" Sherlock asked him, staring at the two of them intensely. He was surprised, normally people back down under his gaze but the short redhead only raised an eyebrow at him and crossed her arms in front of her chest. She popped her hip to the right in a general display of attitude.

"We've only just met and we're gonna go and look at a flat?" John asked him sounding slightly irate. The girl on the other hand looked amused as if this was entertaining her.

"Problem?" Sherlock asked him quirking one of his eyebrows. John smiled at him in disbelief before looking across to Mike for help. Mike only continued to smile so John looked back at the consulting detective.

John looked at the girl briefly for a second and after taking in her stance he decided to handle this for the both of them. "We don't know a thing about each other; we don't know where we're meeting; we don't even know your name."

Sherlock looked at the both of them closely for a second. He looked at the girl with a bit of amusement and she narrowed her eyes at him before he started speaking. "I know you're an Army doctor and you've been invalided home from Afghanistan. I know you've got a brother who's worried about you but you won't go to him for help because you don't approve of him…possibly because he's an alcoholic; more likely because he recently walked out on his wife. And I know that your therapist thinks your limp's psychosomatic…quite correctly, I'm afraid." John down at his leg and cane and shuffled his feet awkwardly. "That's enough to be going on with, don't you think?" He asked them smugly as he turned and walked to the door again. He opened it and walked through, but then he leaned back into the room again. "The name's Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221B Baker Street," He said as he click-winked at the girl, people seemed to like it, said it made him human, before looking round at Mike. "Afternoon."

Mike raised a finger in farewell as Sherlock disappeared from the room. As the door slammed shut behind him, he walked away only to hear Mike say, "Yeah. He's always like that."

Sherlock Holmes and Lexi MacKenna had met five times without knowing it. Maybe by destiny they were pulled together, two like minds. Out of all those times, the last of those meetings truly mattered. Suffice to say, Sherlock never completely forgot the red head he met on so many different occasions, but as the meetings were not nearly as important as the last, they didn't hold much precedence in his mind. Later on, Lexi would make a reference to a crème coloured scarf and how it was like one she had gotten on a case once and that was how the two detectives would discover that they had met before Lexi had even met Mycroft a fact that until this day always amuses Sherlock.


End file.
